


Like a Fountain Stirred

by NoOneKnowsIWriteThis



Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Achilles/Pat is mostly background for obvious reasons, Basically Achilles finding his place in the House, Bonding, Emotional Hurt, Fluff and Angst, Gen, M/M, and bonding with Zagreus, pre-game, while trying not to think about how much he misses Patroclus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:35:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27584174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoOneKnowsIWriteThis/pseuds/NoOneKnowsIWriteThis
Summary: “This is Achilles,” Nyx explains, gesturing to the shade with an elegant twist of her hand. “Your father has retained him to serve as your weapons tutor.”Achilles glances sharply at Nyx, who simply raises an eyebrow, then he looks back at Zagreus, who gazes up at him with unbridled excitement before he remembers himself and says “It’s an honor to meet you, Achilles, sir.”-Achilles joins the House of Hades and slowly adjusts to his new role.
Relationships: Achilles & Zagreus (Hades Video Game), Achilles/Patroclus (Hades Video Game)
Comments: 31
Kudos: 465





	1. A Bargain Struck

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from Shakespeare's Troilus and Cressida, from one of Achilles's lines in Act 3, Scene 3 (because I'm a huge nerd and can't resist a Shakespeare reference):  
> "My mind is troubled, like a fountain stirr'd;  
> And I myself see not the bottom of it."

Achilles is raw and rough when he first arrives at the House of Hades. He is still smarting from battle, from loss, from the unfairness of it all. When he’d first arrived in the afterlife, his sole thought was to find Patroclus, and that drive brought him to the House, where the records of all final destinations and charges could be found.

He joins the line of his fellow shades and waits until finally he stands before the desk of Lord Hades and the god of the dead scowls down at him.

“Well?” Hades prompts, his voice booming around them like a thunderclap, though Achilles doubts Hades would appreciate being compared to something so strongly associated with his brother Zeus.

“I seek to know the fate of Patroclus, son of Menoetius, the late companion of Achilles,” Achilles states with all the strength he can muster.

Hades looks at him thoughtfully for long enough that Achilles scrambles to find more words to say, in case he hadn’t made his objective clear enough. But Hades speaks before he can add on to his request.

“He hasn’t been processed yet. That  _ war _ has caused a large influx of souls,” Hades replies with disgust, his eyes running down a very lengthy sheet of parchment. “However, the preliminary ruling for his case was Tartarus.”

If he were still alive, Achilles would swear that he felt his blood freeze.

“Tartarus?” he echoes shakily. “No.  _ No _ , he is a hero. He  _ died  _ a hero! He can’t be-” Achilles’s own growing rage cuts him off.

“It looks like he falls under Tisiphone’s purview,” Hades continues, reading off the parchment.

Achilles feels himself shaking from trying to hold back his anger. “And… And what of Achilles?”

“Pah, Achilles,” Hades scoffs, not even bothering to check the list. “Elysium, like so many demigods before him.”

It's like a punch to the gut. Achilles condemned to paradise — for it could never truly be paradise with him knowing Pat’s fate — while Patroclus, who had always tried to temper Achilles’s overwhelming passions, was damned to suffer under the Furies.

“Is that all?” Hades asks impatiently.

“Give him my place!” Achilles offers desperately, the hood of his cloak falling back as he looks entreatingly upward. It’s as if his blood is pounding in his ears. “Give Patroclus my place in Elysium! O-or rescind my place and send us both to Asphodel.  _ Please.” _

Hades lets out a weary sigh, like he’s had to explain this countless times before. “It is not as simple as that. Your place in the afterlife must be earned, it cannot be moved around.”

Achilles can feel a mixture of wrath and desperation growing within him. A truly dangerous combination.

“Although,” Hades continues, “shades who willingly enter into a contract with my House, taking on responsibilities and duties not required of them, can earn benefits for others. But such a contract is not to be entered into lightly.” Hades’s tone takes a warning turn at the end.

“What are your terms?” Achilles asks without hesitation.

“What skills do you offer, shade?”

Achilles pauses for a moment, taken off-guard by not being known. “I am Achilles, son of King Peleus and the Nereid Thetis, proclaimed the greatest of the Greeks. I am a well-trained warrior and commanded the Myrmidons during the Trojan war. I studied under Chiron the centaur and received training in the art of medicine as well.” When Hades doesn’t appear impressed by Achilles’s achievements, Achilles hesitantly adds “I can also play the lyre.”

Hades lets out a short bark of laughter. “Very well, I’m sure we can find some use for you.”

It feels as though a weight was lifted from Achilles’s shoulders. “Thank you, Lord Hades.”

“Do not thank me yet,” Hades cautions. “You do not yet know the terms of the contract I’m offering.” Hades gestures and one of the shades milling about scurries off down a hall, only to return shortly with a scroll. Hades takes it, looks it over, nods, and then hands it back to the shade, who brings it to Achilles.

His first instinct is to sign right away, that it doesn't matter what Hades requires of him as long as Patroclus is safe and happy, and if Pat is upset then he can drink from the Lethe and have an afterlife of bliss with all memories of Achilles blotted from his mind. However, Achilles isn't foolish enough to give in to that dramatic impulse, and instead he reads the terms offered to him.

_ The shade Achilles will serve the House of Hades in whatever capacity is required of him, in exchange the shade Patroclus will be placed in Elysium. As Achilles is relinquishing his deserved place in Elysium, he is forbidden from visiting that part of the underworld. _

_ If the terms of this contract are violated, the contract becomes null, and Achilles and Patroclus will be properly processed and placed accordingly. _

When Achilles finishes reading and looks up, he finds Hades already watching him.

“Well?” Hades prompts him. “Are the terms acceptable?”

Achilles pushes away the voice in his head arguing that this wouldn’t get him any closer to Patroclus, that it would just switch their places and ensure they were kept apart. He swallows his nerves. He speaks.

“Yes. I agree to your terms.”

“Done,” Hades declares.

The House rumbles around them as the messenger shade pulls out a quill and entreats Achilles to sign. Once his signature and that of Lord Hades are both on the parchment, the shade takes the contract and retreats down the hall.

Achilles has no time to think over what he’s done.

“Nyx!” Hades calls.

In an instant a tall pale woman dressed in black, purple, and a dark gold, with hair like the night sky appears at Achilles’s side.

“Yes, Lord Hades?” she asks, not sparing a glance for the deceased warrior she stands beside.

“Achilles here has agreed to become the newest servant of the House. I trust you will find a use for this  _ hero of Troy. _ ” Hades says the title with a twist of irony. He doesn’t even wait for Nyx’s response before turning to the next shade in line.

“You are Achilles,” Nyx states, her upward inflection not quite enough to turn it into a question. “Come with me.”

She leads him a short distance from the main hall before stopping in a less crowded hallway. 

“You are a fearsome warrior and a competent, if emotional commander,” Nyx gives her appraisal bluntly, with no hint of either awe or disrespect. “I think you would serve admirably as our master-at-arms.”

“Does the House of Hades have many soldiers in need of training?” Achilles asks, before belatedly tacking on “O Night?”

Nyx smiles a coy, knowing smile. “Just one.”

A youth, apparently in the gangly years of early pubescence, dashes out of a narrow entryway nearby.

“Zagreus!” Nyx calls.

The youth comes to an abrupt stop and turns toward them with a blinding grin, his mismatched eyes glinting red and green. He trots over to them, trying to keep his attention on Nyx, but unable to resist the urge to glance at Achilles with open curiosity.

“Yes, Mother?” he replies.

“This is Achilles,” Nyx explains, gesturing to the shade with an elegant twist of her hand. “Your father has retained him to serve as your weapons tutor.”

Achilles glances sharply at Nyx, who simply raises an eyebrow, then he looks back at Zagreus, who gazes up at him with unbridled excitement before he remembers himself and says “It’s an honor to meet you, Achilles, sir.”

Achilles finds himself overwhelmed, his mind attempting to process that he has been brought on to train the prince of the House, the son of Hades. The fact that the boy is such an extreme contrast to his severe father and his stately mother, simply exuding warmth and restless energy, is also a surprise.

He manages to untangle his tongue enough to mumble “Likewise, your highness.”

Nyx smoothly takes back the conversation with “Since Achilles is so new, perhaps you could show him around the House, Zagreus.”

Zagreus somehow burns even brighter at the suggestion. "It would be my pleasure!" he declares, and Achilles has no reason to doubt him.

He finds himself taken on a whirlwind tour, pulled down hallways, through the lounge, past a gated off garden, until Zagreus rushes him through a chaotic bedroom into a courtyard. Zagreus leads him to a point that provides a stunning view of Tartarus and then sits, dangling his flaming feet over the edge.

"This is a lovely view," Achilles compliments as he sits beside the prince. 

"Yeah," Zagreus agrees, though his voice takes on a wistful tone. 

"The House seems rather busy, it must be nice to have a place to retreat when you want peace," Achilles offers. If this young prince is to be his charge, it's in his interest to bond with the lad. He finds himself drawn to him regardless.

Zagreus shrugs. "I suppose. …there's only so much to do, and everyone else is usually busy. I come here when I don't want to disturb them."

It clicks in Achilles's head. This boy is terribly lonely and considerate enough of other people's responsibilities that he tries to hide that loneliness.

"Well, lad, it seems the only thing I'll be busy with is teaching you."

Achilles feels his heart ache at how much that makes Zagreus's expression lighten. He must be incredibly bored or lonely if the promise of regular martial drills excites him.

"Have you received any training before?" Achilles asks.

Zagreus shakes his head. "Thanatos wouldn't even let me hold his sword or scythe."

Achilles can't help but startle at hearing the god of death referred to so casually. He supposes he'll have to get used to it. He's sworn to the House of Hades now and charged with the care of a godling.


	2. A Moment Relived

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zagreus begins his training. Achilles dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to mention in the last chapter, but I picture the system for sorting shades having a sort of preliminary assessment from before they die (which marks any major things, like how Patroclus killed a child when he was a child, hence why his preliminary assessment has him bound for Tartarus), which is then reappraised in more detail given the sum of their life once a person is dead. So Pat wouldn't have necessarily wound up in Tartarus in the end, but the contract completely circumvented Patroclus's second appraisal.

“Keep your fists up, lad. If you drop them, you’re giving your opponent an opening,” Achilles comments as he watches Zagreus practice the punching combo he’d shown him.

Zagreus nods and brings his fists, which had been dropping, back up, before starting the combo again. He’s proving an eager student, throwing himself entirely into drills and absorbing every pointer Achilles offers him like a sponge.

“Now,” Achilles says, stepping in front of the prince and lifting the shield he’s been holding, “do it again, but hit this, aim for the center.”

Zagreus does as he’s bid and Achilles carefully watches his form for any adjustments to be made. After a bit, Achilles calls a halt to that exercise and runs the prince through a series of stretches to wind the session to a close.

“That’s it for today. Not bad for your first lesson.”

The prince’s breathing is beginning to steady out and he’s grinning broadly.

“Go on and wash up, lad,” Achilles dismisses him.

“Yes, sir,” Zagreus replies before dashing off.

Achilles tidies up before trailing after him through the prince’s room back into the main halls, where he is called away by Nyx.

The first time Achilles had met her, he had been too overwhelmed to truly register the goddess of night and her subtle kind of presence. Now there are no such distractions. Nyx gives off the accommodating yet regal air of a queen in exile, though by rights this domain is as much hers as it is Hades’s and she could exercise power over even him if she chose. Instead she chooses to stand off to the side, only intervening when it suits her.

“Your Patroclus has been safely delivered to Elysium,” she announces delicately, as if she is unsure how he will take the news.

“You’re sure?” Achilles asks cautiously —for Patroclus is more dear to him than his own life— but his fear is already beginning to lift.

“I asked my son to tell me when it was done,” Nyx replies. “Charon informed me earlier.”

Achilles bows low. “Thank you. Thank you, Lady Nyx, for this.”

“Lord Hades can be...severe, but he does keep his word. Know, Achilles, that your companion is secure.” She wears a knowing expression that tells Achilles his relief must be all too visible. Then her face shifts and she says “Let me ask, what is your appraisal of Prince Zagreus.”

Achilles blinks, taken off-guard by the quick change in topics, but he recovers. “He is a quick learner, and eager to learn too. I believe that he will show the makings of a fine fighter soon enough.”

“Those are your thoughts on him as a pupil,” Nyx states evenly. “I would have your thoughts on him as a person as well.” Her gaze rests on him expectantly.

“My honest thoughts, O Night?”

“Just so.”

“...The prince is...lonely. I know you and the other gods have your duties, but Zagreus has none. He has too much time to himself, yet he is too considerate to make a fuss. He’s a good lad.” Achilles does not mention the warm presence that seems to fill whatever room Zagreus is in.

A soft smile graces the goddess's lips. "I'm glad to hear you think so. It is my hope that you will abate some of his loneliness," she turns her face away, thoughtful, "though I fear it will eventually grow too great for him to bear." Nyx glances back at Achilles. "All I can do is prepare him until his true nature and duties reveal themselves."

"Lady Nyx…" Achilles starts, unsure of what to say.

“You may go,” she says firmly, but not unkindly. “Your duties are fulfilled for the day.”

Achilles nods, bows to her once again, and walks away. He visits the lounge, for lack of anything else to do, but eventually he finds his way to his room.

It is bare, as there has been no time for Achilles to accumulate any things just yet.

Finally, he gives into the urge to lie down and rest.

—

Patroclus stands in Achilles’s tent, wearing Achilles’s armor, holding Achilles’s helmet.

_ “You  _ may be content to stay here, but  _ I  _ will not stand by while everything comes to naught because  _ you _ are  _ sulking _ . Like a  _ child.” _ The disappointment in Patroclus’s voice is only matched by his expression.

Achilles pulls his himation tighter around himself and stubbornly tilts his chin up to meet Patroclus’s eye. He wants to protest that he’s not sulking, but knows that would only make him sound more childish to Patroclus’s ears.

Patroclus sighs and doesn’t bother to hide the roll of his eyes. “Fine then. Farewell, Achilles.” He pulls Achilles’s helmet over his head and strides out of the tent without another word.

—

“Are you alright, Achilles?” Zagreus asks as Achilles leads him through some stretches.

"I'm fine, lad," Achilles lies, forcing a smile that he knows is unconvincing.

He's not fine. He's replayed the moment Patroclus left in his armor over and over since his lover died. He's thought through all the things he wishes he would have done or said differently so that at least their final exchange hadn't been so poisoned by his anger. If he could go back, Achilles would gladly throw away his useless pride to keep Patroclus alive. It's all for naught and the dwelling doesn't help. It may have fueled his wrath while he lived and there were Trojans to inflict his anguish upon, but now, in death, it just hurts.

Achilles is tired of war and fighting.

"If you say so, sir," Zagreus replies, obviously unconvinced. "But if you wish to talk…"

A genuine smile replaces the false one. Zagreus is a truly kind soul, unable to keep from offering assistance, even to those who should be considered below him since he is a prince and a god. 

“I appreciate the offer, highness, but it’s nothing, merely a...troubling dream.” As much as it warms Achilles for Zagreus to offer a friendly ear, he doesn’t actually want to discuss Patroclus. Focusing on training has always helped clear his head in the past.

“I could speak to Hypnos, if you want. Ask him to send more peaceful dreams,” Zagreus offers.

Achilles shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it, lad. It will pass.” There’s no point in asking for peaceful dreams, not when they would still be filled with Patroclus and leave his chest feeling just as hollow afterwards.

His unhappiness is still clearly bothering Zagreus, but he drops the topic anyway.


	3. An Excursion Made

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Achilles gets permission to take Zagreus into Tartarus for a bit.

Nyx wants Zagreus trained in a wide variety of weapons, and so Achilles obliges. He starts the lad in unarmed combat and the bow, before they journey to the House's armory in search of staves and wooden swords to practice with.

"You know I'm immortal, right?" Zagreus asks as Achilles looks through a selection of practice swords. "You can't be killed either, not again. You'd just regenerate after a bit and I'd crawl out of the Pool of Styx."

Achilles spares his pupil a quick glance. The prince is managing to not fidget, but there's a restless energy to him regardless.

"Be that as it may, lad, injuries can be unwelcome even when they're nonfatal. Besides, bruises can prove just as stern teachers as stab wounds." And regardless of how impermanent death is for them, Achilles has no interest in reliving the feeling of holding a dead man in his arms.

"I guess," Zagreus concedes.

The prince has proven an able and eager student, quickly absorbing all the information Achilles throws at him and rarely making the same mistake twice. If Achilles didn’t insist on regular breaks, he suspects Zagreus would happily train until one of them collapsed. Achilles finds that he doesn’t mind a more intense regimen than he would have ever attempted while alive, it keeps him from having too much time to think, from having time to dwell. It’s hard for him to be unhappy in Zagreus’s presence.

It’s during one of their rests while the two are sitting side by side, looking out over Tartarus, as is their custom, that Zagreus’s face takes on a melancholy expression. 

“Is something bothering you, your highness?” Achilles asks.

Zagreus’s face twists a little more. “It’s just… I’m not allowed out of the House without an escort, only allowed into parts of Tartarus with one, and no one is ever free when I ask.”

Achilles nods. He has noticed that the prince’s situation could be best described as protective, if one was feeling charitable, or controlled, if one was not. Still, it’s not his place to inflame Zagreus’s rebellious thoughts further, so instead he comments “You  _ are  _ the prince, lad. Even if you’re not at risk of dying, it’s only natural your parents would want to protect you.” Achilles himself is a testament to how far some parents would go to safeguard their children.

Zagreus turns toward him and frowns thoughtfully. “I suppose… You were a prince, right? You mentioned that your father was a king…”

“And my mother was a Nereid,” Achilles replies easily.

“Did  _ you  _ have someone with you everywhere you went?”

The question is meant in innocence, simply Zagreus trying to gauge how usual or unusual his circumstances are. And yet it opens a well of feeling within Achilles that he had been desperately trying to keep shut. Countless memories of Patroclus standing at his side, laughing with him, fighting beside him… They all flood forth as Achilles tries to prevent any hint of pain from reaching his face.

“I did, yes,” Achilles hears himself answering distantly. It’s not the same at all. Pat wasn’t a guardian — for there had been little that could truly harm Achilles, until the end — he was a companion, a friend, a lover, not a chaperone.

“Hmm…”

Achilles clears his throat before offering “The next time I speak with Lady Nyx, I could ask her if I can take you to Tartarus.”

“Could you?” Zagreus offers him a completely charmed smile, as if Achilles has promised him something far grander than just asking if they’ll be allowed outside of the House.

“Of course, lad, but later. For now, it’s time to get back to your training.”

Zagreus hops back up instantly, eager to resume. Achilles rises slower, though he is no less eager to return to their work.

—

Nyx permits their excursion, but she insists on alerting the Furies of their plan — though whether it’s so the Furies will keep an eye out for them or so they won’t mistake them for Tartarus-trapped shades, Achilles doesn’t know — and arranges for Charon to be ready to meet them to bring them back to the House when they’re done.

Achilles insists they both go armed. He brings a spear, of course. Zagreus considers the weapons he’s been training with so far and eventually takes his practice sword.

Tartarus itself is grim and oppressive, and yet Achilles finds himself mostly unaffected by it due to the presence of the prince. Zagreus finds so much joy in simply being allowed to wander these chambers freely for a bit that it’s infectious.

As they enter the next chamber, there comes a thunderous roar that has Achilles, spear at the ready, pushing the prince behind him before he can even think.

An enormous boulder rolls to a stop several paces ahead of them, followed by a large man descending the incline after it. He leans against the boulder, breathing heavily, his body sweating from recent exertion.

“We’ll get it one day, Bouldy,” the man declares. “The important thing is that we try, especially when the Fury sisters are watching.” He chuckles at his own wry joke.

“Sisyphus!” Zagreus greets from behind Achilles’s guard.

“Ah, Prince Z! It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” the man, Sisyphus, replies.

Achilles relaxes his guard slightly at Zagreus's greeting, then more once he notices the shackles keeping Sisyphus bound.

Zagreus rushes forward, stopping entirely too close to the shade for Achilles's liking, so Achilles follows.

"Hello! I don't think I've seen you before," Sisyphus says, taking in Achilles with an appraising eye.

"I was much after your time, o king," Achilles states carefully. He’s heard the stories, of course, of the man who managed to evade death temporarily, but no man can ever truly escape it.

Sisyphus waves his hand dismissively. "None of that. Down here I have no subjects; Bouldy certainly doesn't count."

"This is Achilles, sir," Zagreus explains readily. "He's been training me." He gestures to the practice sword at his hip.

"That's wonderful to hear, your highness!" Sisyphus replies with an easy smile. "I find it’s much better to have something to do to pass the time.”

There is no natural wind in the underworld, any wind that is occasionally felt is caused by something. So when Achilles feels the air stir violently, he pulls the prince back towards him, away from Sisyphus, and shifts into a fighting stance.

A fierce-looking woman with a single wing lands in front of them, her expression half-caught in disgust. Though they’ve never been formally introduced, Achilles recognizes her in passing from the House: Megaera, the Fury.

“Break time is over,” she informs Sisyphus in a tone that makes it clear obedience is the only acceptable response.

“Of course, Lady Megaera. I’ll get right back to work,” he concedes readily, turning briefly back to Zagreus and Achilles. “It was lovely getting to chat with you both.”

Megaera finally spares a glance for the two of them. “Zagreus,” she says, the name coming out low and dark, like something unwelcome.

“Hey, Meg,” Zagreus greets with half of his usual cheer. The darting of his eyes back to where Sisyphus is bracing himself against the boulder gives away where his lack of enthusiasm comes from.

“You should leave, Zag.” It’s a mix of advice and an order. Megaera slowly unfurls her whip, pulling the length of it through her hand. “Take him out of here.” This time she speaks to Achilles and it is not a suggestion.

“Best be on our way, lad,” Achilles murmurs, managing to find his voice. He uses his hand on the prince’s shoulder to guide him away.

Zagreus looks one last time toward Sisyphus struggling, then his gaze falls to the floor and he swallows heavily as he lets Achilles lead him from the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sisyphus's entry in the Codex inspired this entire chapter.


	4. An Emptiness Felt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zagreus spends time with a friend. Achilles picks up a hobby.

They’re in the middle of shield training when an ominous bell tolls and a sickly green light flashes over the courtyard.

Achilles is filled with an instinctive dread that causes him to tighten his grip on the staff that he’d been testing Zagreus with. Zagreus himself, on the other hand, immediately lights up with excitement and drops his shield on the ground.

“Than!” he exclaims, running towards the dark, hooded figure who has just materialized, floating above the courtyard.

Achilles may already be dead, but he still has the instinctive mortal response to the god of death. And yet, he's heard so much about Thanatos from Zagreus that the fear seems to fall away as quickly as it came.

He picks up the shield that Zagreus has abandoned and walks toward the pair.

“Hello, Zag. I heard I might find you here.” Thanatos is not overly expressive, but there is a clear warmth in his voice and eyes as he greets the prince, a warmth that vanishes when he glances at Achilles. Thanatos isn't hostile, simply neutral as he takes in the sight of the shade carrying training equipment approaching then.

"Oh! You haven't been back since Achilles arrived," Zagreus realizes and immediately begins the introductions. "Achilles is the House's master-at-arms; he's been training me in combat."

"Well, I hope you won't need it," Thanatos comments with a bit of humor, a wry smile tugging on his lips.

"As do I, Lord Thanatos," Achilles agrees readily. Zagreus may be immortal, but Achilles would prefer his charge remain untouched by true violence for as long as possible. He bows to the god. "Zagreus speaks highly of you.”

Thanatos looks him over appraisingly, then nods in acknowledgement. It's surprisingly awkward for such a serene-seeming god.

Achilles turns and sees the young prince glancing between the two. The shade quickly comes to a decision.

"Why don't we call it a day for now, lad," he proposes. "You’ve made good progress, you deserve a break.”

Zagreus gazes at Achilles with an open expression of wonder and delight. "Thank you, sir! I promise I'll train extra hard next time."

"No need for that," Achilles says with a shake of his head and a smile. “Enjoy your time together.” As he goes to put away the training gear, he sees Zagreus take Thanatos’s hand and lead the other god away.

—

Outside of training Zagreus and discussing his duties with Nyx, Achilles has little else to do, which is how he finds himself in the lounge, standing alone at a table, while listening as, at the next table over, the Head Contractor and the Wretched Broker discuss logistics that are far outside Achilles’s areas of expertise. He’s only vaguely following their discussion about the difficulty of negotiating prices with Charon since he uses obols — the main currency of most of the underworld — but gemstones are the preferred currency of the House, when the Broker mentions having obtained a lyre that he’s keen to sell off quickly, as it doesn’t stack nicely with his regular wares.

It's a surprisingly simple matter to insert himself into the conversation and negotiate a deal that sees Achilles walking away with the lyre.

It's been ages since he last played, even before his death, as he'd fallen out of practice during the war. But the sounds that fill his room are promising, if occasionally halting.

He lets his eyes fall closed as he continues to play, and his thoughts wander to memories that have been turned bittersweet by circumstance. Achilles thinks of Patroclus lounging nearby while he practiced the instrument. He thinks of how he would occasionally coax Pat into singing along with him, their voices twining together. He thinks of heady days, before the war, when the two of them would sneak off to some hidden place to simply be in each other’s presence, until their eyes met and the lyre was abandoned for other pursuits.

Achilles doesn’t realize he’s been crying until a tear falls onto his hand, startling him out of his reverie.

He quickly abandons the lyre and wipes at his eyes, before rushing out of the room in search of something else to fill his time.

—

Zagreus finds him after Thanatos leaves and asks if Achilles is free to resume their training. Achilles accepts readily.

They return to shield practice. Achilles’s stray thoughts are driven out of his mind by the drills and watching for mistakes in Zagreus’s form. By the time he calls their training to a halt, his mind is fully focused on the moment, which is why it catches him off-guard when Zagreus asks how he’s doing.

“You don’t need to worry about me, lad,” Achilles is swift to reassure him.

“I’m not trying to pressure you into telling me anything you don’t want to, sir,” Zagreus says, raising his arms in a disarming shrug, “but when you seem upset like this, I can’t help but worry.” He offers a sheepish smile, as if being concerned for another’s well-being were something to be embarrassed about. “If there’s anything I can do to help…”

Achilles lets out a sigh. He knows he should have expected something like this eventually. Zagreus is too considerate to let Achilles’s tidal melancholy go unremarked upon, and too observant to fail to pick up on the way his trainer’s moods roll in and out.

“There’s nothing you can do, Zagreus,” he starts, hoping using the prince’s name will lend some finality to his explanation. “There are choices that I made in my life that I deeply regret. There’s nothing to be done about them now, but sometimes...sometimes I find myself dwelling on what I wish I’d done differently…” He shakes his head sadly and manages a self-deprecating smile. “You’re not the only one who uses training to clear his head.”

Zagreus’s expression shifts from surprised to sympathetic. “Well, sir, if you ever need to train, I’m a more than willing partner, and I could certainly use more practice.” He offers Achilles a hopeful smile.

“I appreciate it, lad, and I  _ will  _ keep it in mind,” Achilles promises sincerely. “And I want you to know the same holds true for me, if you ever need some training so you can work through your thoughts, you can always find me.”

The prince beams up at him, then shuffles nervously for a moment before stepping forward and wrapping Achilles in a gentle hug. Achilles, taken aback, first focuses on remaining solid rather than turning insubstantial, then he wraps his arms around the prince and returns the embrace.

“Thank you, Achilles, sir,” Zagreus mumbles into Achilles’s chest.

“Of course, lad.” Achilles holds the lad tighter for a moment before releasing him and stepping back. He keeps one hand on Zagreus's shoulder, loathe to completely let him go. Achilles is uncertain if he became colder in death or if Zagreus is just naturally warm, but touching him has the same comforting effect as holding a warm drink on a cold day.

Zagreus glances thoughtfully around the courtyard, then says, "If there's anything you want, anything that would make passing the time here more pleasant, I'd be more than happy to attempt to acquire it for you, sir."

A polite refusal is already on Achilles's lips when he pauses and thinks about it for a moment. He has more time than can be filled just by training, and more time than he knows what to do with. He doesn't need to sleep as regularly as he did when he lived, and given the all too often melancholy nature of his dreams, sleep for leisure is best avoided.

"A blank codex, if you can manage it," he requests. "I'd like to be able to write down some of my thoughts."

Zagreus nods, his brows drawing together as he begins thinking about how to acquire such a thing. "Leave it to me," he says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was always meant to be a series of loosely connected bits until I ran out of steam, so even though there's plenty of other potential stories that could still be written in this vein, someone else will have to write them.
> 
> (I might post the little bits that I never managed to expand beyond tiny ficlets in a collection. Plus I have a fic from Patroclus's perspective set in this same interpretation of Hades that I'll probably post after I clean it up a bit.)


End file.
